


The Fume of Sighs

by ilovejared



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Dean, Canon Universe, Cuddling & Snuggling, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Gentleness, Guilty Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Naked Cuddling, Post-Episode: s11e17 Red Meat, Power Bottom Dean Winchester, Protective Dean Winchester, Schmoop, Sibling Incest, Top Sam Winchester, Touchy-Feely, Wincest - Freeform, Wincest Big Bang 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-17 07:18:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16511753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilovejared/pseuds/ilovejared
Summary: It's a love story, plain and simple. Takes place after 11x17 Red Meat.





	The Fume of Sighs

**Author's Note:**

> Jared said at a convention that this episode was Romeo and Juliet meets The Revenant. I am focusing on the Romeo and Juliet aspect. So only proceed if you love fluff and schmoop!
> 
> A HUGE shout out to my incredible artist threshie. Follow her [here](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Threshie) and [here](http://threshasketch.tumblr.com/). Her amazing art inspired me and helped me to finish this story. I don't know how you put up with me! 
> 
> You can also check out her art masterpost [here](http://threshasketch.tumblr.com/post/179454528268).
> 
> Also, a huge thanks to my husband. He is an awesome beta!
> 
> I am not a medical expert and the recovery time from a gunshot wound varies widely. Of course, Sam would recover quicker than most because he is Sam Fucking Winchester!
> 
> The ceremony in the snow wasn't actually that long. Just go with that.
> 
> Kudos and comments make my day!!

 

    

 

_I defy you, stars. (Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare.)_

_When he shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he shall make the face of Heaven so fine, That all the world will be in love with night, And pay no worship to the garish sun.(Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare)_

_I watched the man I love die. There’s no normal after that.(Supernatural, Episode 11x17, Red Meat)_

 

 

 

_I watched the man I love die. There’s no normal after that._

 

Dean could still picture Michelle’s face reflecting her grief, painful and raw in it’s newness. He knew the shock would wear off soon enough and she would realize that her life stretched before her without her husband.

 

While he felt no sympathy for the man who had tried to kill his brother, Michelle was a different matter. He had felt that same grief, crushing in its weight and depth. He had railed at God, the universe and anyone who would listen.

 

He had found an infinite well of tears available to express the sorrow, the emptiness he had felt after losing Sam.

 

_I watched the man I love die. There’s no normal after that._

 

He looked at his brother, already asleep, head lolling against the window of the impala,shivering a bit at the cold glass and probably loss of blood.

 

 Sam was so pale. Deathly pale because, for all intents and purposes, he had been dead. Or so close that even Dean had been fooled when he had touched him, checked for a pulse and believed he was gone.

 

 Gone for good this time because Billie had made it clear that there would be no second chances for the Winchesters. Not anymore.

 

 He had still tried to bring Sam back, of course, because that’s what’s he did. He didn’t want nor could he conceive of a life without his little brother in it.

 

 Dean’s breath hitched in his chest as he thought about Sam lying on the floor of that cabin, cold and barely alive.

 

  _I watched the man I love die. There’s no normal after that._

 

 His heart still pounded with emotion unspent, because there had been no time to grieve. He had choked back his anguish, had left Sam lying in that dark, dirty cabin while he saved Michelle and her husband.

 

 Now all he wanted to do was pull over the impala and bury his nose in Sam’s girly hair and let the tears come. To tell his little brother all the things he had been holding back.

 

 That he needed Sam like he needed air to breathe and water to drink. To say those three little words that he couldn’t allow himself to say out loud, no matter how bitter the disappointment he saw in his brother’s prismatic eyes.

 

 I love you.

 

  _I watched the man I love die. There’s no normal after that._

 

 Those same two sentences kept repeating in his mind, a nightmarish mantra of loss and regret. He kept remembering Michelle’s devastated face and then the way he had felt as he had knelt by Sam’s body.

 

 A mist suddenly obscured the road ahead making it difficult for Dean to navigate the impala through the fading light. He wanted, needed, to get Sam home so he could rest in his own bed and not some crap motel room.

 

 Still, he pulled the impala to the side of the road, trying not to wake Sam in the process.They were traveling through the countryside and trees towered on both sides of the winding asphalt making the shadows of twilight appear deeper.

 

 Turning to look at Sam, he realized his brother was blurry and that the mist wasn’t outside at all.

 

 Dean swiped at his eyes, clearing the tears that refused to fall. He couldn’t do this now. He needed to get them home, take care of Sam.

 

 Get it together, dammit.

 

  _I watched the man I love die. There’s no normal after that._

 

Dean opened his door as quiet as he could, not pushing it shut all the way, not wanting to disturb Sam.

 

Sam, _his Sammy,_ had almost died. What if his little brother hadn’t been so strong, hadn’t been able to take out those werewolves, hadn’t been able to make it back to the impala and Dean, saving his big brother’s life in the process?

 

Making his way around the impala, Dean leaned against one of the trees trying to catch his breath, to stop the tears that he had been unable to shed earlier for his dead brother.

 

_I watched the man I love die. There’s no normal after that._

 

Bitter memories surfaced forcing Dean to double over with the overwhelming emotion behind them. Images flickered in his mind’s eye like a macabre piece of cinema highlighting the most horrible moments of Dean’s life.

 

Kneeling in the mud in Cold Oak, Sam’s lifeless body in his arms.

 

Sam at the mercy of misguided hunters who didn’t know or want to understand what had led to Lucifer walking the Earth. Dean powerless to prevent them from shooting Sam in the chest at point blank range.

 

Watching Sam throw himself into the cage to save the world from Lucifer’s wrath leaving Dean alone and crippled with guilt and grief.

 

And, of course, fresh and in living color, Sam’s blood pouring from the wound in his side. Struck down by a silver bullet from their own gun.

 

_I watched the man I love die. The man I love die. The man I love..._

 

“Dean?” Sam’s voice was soft and slurred from the painkillers he had taken earlier.

 

Dean’s head snapped up. He had been so engrossed in the painful memories that he hadn’t heard the car door open.

 

Sam made as if to swing his legs to the ground and Dean was at his side in an instant preventing his brother from moving any more than he had already.

 

“Dammit, Sammy. What the hell do you think you’re doing? You wanna tear your stitches and bleed out for real this time?” The words were harsh but the voice in which they were delivered was subdued and full of worry.

 

Sam was too fatigued to argue but could still huff his annoyance in Dean’s direction. “I’m fine, Dean.”

 

Still, he allowed Dean to settle him back against his seat without another word. Just closed his eyes and murmured, “Thanks, Dean.”

 

Dean swallowed around the lump that seemed to be permanently stuck in his throat.

 

“I just don’t want to have to haul your ass back to the hospital.” Dean’s voice was gruff but, at the same time, he gently swept Sam’s hair back from his forehead.

 

Sam was already asleep again but he responded to Dean’s touch with a soft sigh.

 

Dean sat behind the wheel and glanced at Sam, once again taking in his pallor. He would have to find a motel. Sam needed to stretch out and sleep in a real bed.

 

They would be back to the bunker by tomorrow night. Back home.

 

_I watched the man I love die. There’s no normal after that._

 

Fuck normal. He didn’t give a good goddamn about normal.

 

The only thing that mattered was Sam.

 

The only man Dean would ever love. Past, present or future.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean pulled into a no-tell motel on the outskirts of Kearney, Nebraska. They had been on the road for fifteen hours and Dean had gone past tired through fatigue and now teetered on the jagged edge of exhaustion.

 

Sprawled in the backseat, Sam had slipped in and out of fitful dreams. The last dose of painkillers were obviously wearing thin if the gasps and moans  escaping intermittently from his brother were any indication. Dean wanted to get him on a bed and take a look at his wound after giving Sam more pain pills.

 

Then he was going to drink an entire six-pack. If he could stay awake long enough.

 

First he had to get his gigantor little brother out of the car and into their room. Easier said than done.

 

“Tired, Dean.” Sam protested. “Leave me alone.”

“Come on, Sasquatch. You gotta help me a little here.” Dean cajoled as he tried to extract his brother from the impala. It took five minutes of pleading and demanding that Sam ‘get out of the damn car so you can rest’ before he was able to get Sam upright and moving toward their room.

 

“Jesus, Sam, what the hell have you been eating?” Sam just grunted in response and lolled further against Dean’s side.

 

“I don’t remember you being this heavy. It’s gotta be all of that home cooking I”ve been feeding you.” Exasperated, Dean tried to get a better grip on his not so little brother. “Come on man, help me just a little.”

 

“Almost there, Sammy.”

 

 Sam caught the toe of his boot on the edge of the sidewalk and they stumbled. Dean tried to steady them both but he lost his grip. Sam cried out as he fell against the dingy motel wall, his arm held protectively over his abdomen.

 

 "Goddammit and fuck!” Dean exploded. Guilt at not protecting Sam against more hurt made a swift appearance, piling on top of what was already there.

 

 Guilt came as naturally to Winchesters as breathing. And Dean carried so much remorse and regret when it came to his little brother that he was surprised he didn’t have a nervous breakdown on a regular basis.

 

 Of course that would scare Sam shitless and around and around we go.

 

 With a heavy sigh and minimal help from his brother along with some truly inspired cursing, he was finally able to maneuver Sam through the door and onto one of the double beds.

 

 "I’ll be right back, Sammy. Got to get the bags.”

 

 He smoothed the strands of hair that had fallen on Sam’s forehead, and Sam’s eyes opened slowly, gave him a weak smile.

 

 “I’m sorry, Dean.” He bit his lip as a fresh wave of pain hit him. “Maybe, you were right. Maybe I should have stayed in the hospital a little longer.”

 

 Rolling his eyes, Dean replied in a voice much lighter than he felt. “Well, of course I’m right. Haven’t you learned anything yet little brother?”

 

 Even shaky and in pain, Sam could pull a bitch face. “I’ve learned that you’re an asshole.”

 

 Dean laughed for the first time in what seemed like days. Shit, it probably had been days.

 

 The sound made Sam smile before he closed his eyes again.

 

 After bringing in their bags, Dean supported Sam as he limped to the bathroom. He helped Sam strip down to his t-shirt and briefs, winced as Sam hissed at the pull of sore muscles and stitches.

 

 Sam splashed his face with cold water and brushed his teeth while Dean hovered at his side. Finally, Sam pushed him away irritably.

 

 "I don’t need you to hold my dick, Dean.”

 

 Raising his hands, Dean backed away giving Sam his privacy.

 

 He understood completely. He had been there before, hurt and tired and cranky as hell.

 

 When Sam emerged, he let Dean guide him onto the bed. He sighed as he leaned back on the pillows Dean had arranged.

 

 He dutifully took the pills Dean handed him, drank most of the bottle of water. Neither one of them were very hungry but Dean handed him a protein bar. One look at Dean’s face and he forced himself to eat.

He hadn’t meant to snap at Dean earlier. After all, that was what Dean had done all of his life. Look out for him.

 

 "Thanks for taking care of me, Dean. Again.”

 

 Dean’s hands were gentle as he lifted one corner of the bandage covering Sam’s wound.

 

 “Anytime Sammy. Looks okay. We’ll clean this good when we get home.” Dean replaced the corner of the bandage carefully, then looked into Sam’s tired eyes.

 

 A brief flash of Sam lying still and cold in a dark cabin made Dean reach out and cup Sam’s jaw, his thumb rubbing the skin lightly.

 

 "Let’s not forget that I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you. You’ll have to tell me how you managed to almost die, then kill two werewolves, hike to the impala and show up looking like a Die Hard reject to save my ass.”

 

 Sam closed his eyes, obviously enjoying Dean’s touch. He moved his hand through Sam’s hair, vowing that one of the first things he was going to do when they made it back to the bunker was help Sam take a nice hot shower and wash his hair.

 

 He liked the idea of helping Sam with something so intimate. It had been too long. Years, in fact.

 

 Sam opened his eyes and Dean withdrew his hand at the somber gaze that was leveled his way.

 

 “Dean.” Sam’s voice was soft and Dean could tell he was already feeling the effects of the painkillers. “What did you do when you thought I was dead?”

 

  "Come on, Sammy. I already told you. I knew you weren’t dead.”

 

 “Why won’t you tell me the truth?” Sam’s eyelids shut of their own volition. Then so low, Dean almost didn’t hear it.

 

 “I can’t lose you, Dean.” He exhaled softly, his next words barely above a whisper.

 

 “I need you. I hope you know how much I love you .”

 

 Sam’s breathing evened out as the drugs worked their magic. Whenever Sam slept he looked ten years younger. The ever present worry lines in his forehead disappeared along with the tightness of his lips.

 

 And the hurt and pain that perpetually shone from his eyes was shuttered for a few hours.

 

Dean pulled out his flask and drank deep, feeling the alcohol burn it’s way down his throat.. He would love to get a bottle of jack and drink until everything was a fuzzy memory.

 

 But he couldn’t. Because he had to look after Sam and get them back to the bunker where he could maybe restore what he and his brother had before.

 

 Before Sam was possessed by the devil then jumped in the pit to save the world.

 

 Before Sam came back a soulless version of himself.

 

 Before walls broke and leviathans slithered into this world and Dean went to purgatory.

 

 Before the horrible fights, the jealousy and the trials.

 

 Before Gadreel and Dean becoming a demon.

 

 Dean craved the oblivion that a bottle of liquor could provide but instead he stretched out on the bed next to his brother. Propped against the headboard, he could finish up what was left in the flask and be close to Sam.

 

 It seemed he ached down to the very marrow in his bones. The fight with the werewolves along with his trip into the veil had taken a toll.

 

 He was too tired to get a beer out of the cooler and he always had the energy for consuming alcohol.

 

 Sam was breathing slow, relaxed, lips parted and Dean had an overwhelming urge to lean down and press a gentle kiss to those soft lips.

 

 Of course, he didn’t. Instead, he leaned over, placed a tender kiss on Sam’s stubbled cheek, allowed his lips to linger for just a moment.

 

 Dean leaned back again, draining the last drops from his flask.

 

 Memories, some pleasant, some not , flooded his mind as he closed his eyes, just for a moment.

 

 Sleep wouldn’t come. His mind wanted to dredge up all of the awful things that happened between him and Sam.

 

 The fights and separations. Harsh words that made Dean grimace with the pain they had caused.

 

 They had both said their share of words designed to hurt the other. Of course it was easy to cause each other pain because they both knew what would hurt the other the most.

 

But the things he had said when he was a demon, no possessed but a darker version of himself. Horrible things that had been designed to tear into his brother’s heart like meathooks and shred until there was nothing left but pain and guilt and grief.

 

 While we’re strolling down memory lane, let’s talk about the Mark of Cain. Let’s talk about how you told your brother that he should have died while he was standing, guilt-ridden and grief-stricken in front of Charlie’s funeral pyre.

 

 His traitorous brain wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t shut up, even though he had drunk every drop in his flask and he felt like he had been run over by  a train.

 

 Remember this one, Dean? This was really one of your best moments, if you’re talking about being a total prick and fucking up everything.

 

 How about when you tried to kill him? Not once, but twice.

 

 What if Cas hadn’t shown up when he did and ended your massively screwed up version of hide and seek in the bunker?

 

 What if he had used that scythe on Sam instead of Death?

 

 Because he had been ready to kill Sam. The mark had throbbed, had pulsed with pleasure at the thought of Dean taking the life of this brother.

  _This is where your story will end. Killing your brother._

 

 And Sam ( _his Sammy_ ), had knelt before him, waiting for the blow that would finally end his life, believing in his big brother. Trusting Dean when he said that this was truly the only way.

 

 Dean threw the flask where it bounced on the threadbare carpet and, goddammit, why hadn’t he thought to stop at a liquor store?

 

 He slid off the bed, only because he had to piss like a racehorse. On his way back to the bed, he pulled the battered green cooler to his side of  the bed.

 

 The beer was lukewarm but he didn’t care at this point. He just wanted to drown the painful memories in something, anything.

 He thought of the words Sam had spoken before falling asleep. Maybe, just maybe, they could find their way back to what they had before.

 

 Dean dared to allow himself to hope.

 

 Sam moaned in his sleep, either from pain or bad dreams. Dean laid his hand on Sam’s arm, squeezing gently to let Sam know he was here.

 

 The gesture quieted Sam as it always had. Even when he was a baby, Dean’s touch could soothe Sam better than any lullaby.

 

 Dean spent the rest of the night nursing his one beer and watching his brother sleep.

 

 Finally, as it was just beginning to lighten outside, Dean slept . He dreamt of Sam, bloodied and dying and he could do nothing to stop it.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 The next morning saw them moving slowly. Dean’s ribs were sore as hell and every time Sam moved it seemed to be a struggle .

 

 They finally hit the road with Sam still refusing to lay in the back seat. Dean was pissed as hell at his stubborn little brother but he said nothing. Just handed Sam his coffee and pulled the Impala on the highway, pointed her toward home.

 

 Dean breathed a sigh of relief when Sam drowsed against the passenger side window after they had only been on the road for thirty minutes.

 

 It should have taken six and a half hours to make it back to Lebanon but Dean made it in five.

 

He pulled into the underground garage, killed the engine and leaned his forehead against Baby’s steering wheel.

 

 He could relax while in the bunker. His body could go from it’s hyper-vigilant state to a more calm one. He could stop waiting for the next threat to come at them.

 

 It felt safe.

 

 He startled as he felt Sam’s hand lightly squeeze his arm.

 

 "Dean, you okay?”

 

 “Yeah, Sammy.” He paused, putting his own hand on top of Sam’s. “I will be.We will be.”

 

I promise, Dean added silently.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean had forgotten just how goddamn hard-headed his little brother could be when he really put his mind to it.

 

 Once they had set foot inside the bunker, that well of strength Sam possessed seemed to refill and threaten to overflow.

 

 He flat-out refused to take another pain pill. “They make me feel weird, Dean. I’m not going to take anymore unless I absolutely need them.”

 

 Dean turned his back for only a moment to take their cooler to the kitchen. He returned to see his stubborn as hell little brother attempting to drag his duffel into the hall and to his own room he supposed.

 

 “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Sam?” Dean’s voice was loud enough to cause Sam to drop the bag with a startled yelp.

 

 Dean closed the distance between them in three strides, snatching Sam’s duffel off of the floor. “Are you trying to finish Corbin’s job for him? Huh? If you tear your stitches, you can sew yourself back up.”

 

 Of course, that was a bunch of bullshit but Sam allowed Dean to carry the bag to his room.

 

 Dean had planned on helping Sam clean up with a hot shower. Together. Of course, he wanted to make sure Sam didn’t do anything to injure himself further but he had an ulterior motive.

 

 He just wanted to be able to touch Sam. It had been too long since they had touched each other beyond brotherly hugs or to assess injuries.

 

 He had thought about it on the drive home. Thought about undressing Sam and then himself. Thought about Sam’s body against his with nothing but the warm water between them. The way Sam’s skin would feel under his fingers as he washed away the remains of what had transpired only three days past. He had always loved to wash Sam’s hair for him, not minding that he ended up smelling like mangos or roses or whatever was in Sam’s girly shampoo that week.

 

 He didn’t want to take things to the next level. Not yet.. Sam wasn’t ready physically and Dean wanted to take things slow anyway.

 

 Not that thinking about having sex with Sam was at the back of his mind because it wasn’t. He had always used the physical part of their relationship to show his brother how he felt about him.

 

 But he didn’t want to fuck this up with Sam again.

 

 Maybe he should learn how to _tell_ his brother that he loved him.

 

 So he was more than a little upset when Sam wanted to take a shower alone.

 

 “Oh.” If he said anymore, his disappointment would come through loud and clear.

 

 Of course, the expression on Dean’s face clearly telegraphed his unhappiness.

 

 Sam was bewildered at his brother’s reaction. He knew Dean was tired and he had been taking care of him for days and Sam wanted his brother to relax and not worry about him for a while.

 

 “Dean, wait….”

 

 “I’ll see what kind of supplies we have left in the kitchen.” It was thrown back over his shoulder with feigned nonchalance but Sam had lived with Dean in close quarters for so long he could tell something was up.

 

 Sam sighed. He couldn’t remember the last time he and Dean had showered together.

 

 As he made his way to the showers, he found that he was more than a little disappointed himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean rummaged in the kitchen and didn’t find much. There were frozen waffles and a couple of eggs that weren’t out of date.

 

 There were two cans of beer in the cooler and no coffee to be found. It looked like he would be driving into town this afternoon.

 

 The thought of leaving Sam alone while he went on a grocery run made him mildly nauseous.

 

 Sam was a big boy. He could take care of himself. He had proved that true just a couple of days ago.

 

 Besides, the bunker was the safest place he could be.

 

 Then why did Dean’s stomach drop at the thought of leaving Sam alone?

 

 Because the last time he had left Sam alone, Corbin had all but choked the life from him.

 The image of Sam, pale and unmoving, seemed to be set to rewind and repeat, a stark reminder of how quickly things can go bad. How quickly everything that mattered to you could be taken away. Because, let’s be honest, Sam was his reason for getting up in the morning, for putting one foot in front of the other. He was the reason Dean continued to fight and claw and to try and make this world a better place. Sam was the reason his heart continued to beat.

 

 Sam was his reason for _being_.

 

So why couldn’t he stop beating around the bush and just tell Sam how he felt?

 

 If he wanted things to be different between them maybe it was time to start with a little honesty.

 

 He didn’t know how long he had been standing here but the pipes no longer reverberated with the sound of rushing water so Sam must be out of the shower.

 

 Dean found Sam in his room. For a minute, Dean couldn’t speak. Sam’s back was to him, dressed in only a pair of sweatpants that were practically falling off of his hips. His hair was damp, curling against the soft skin of his neck. His back was still wet, and Dean watched a water droplet journey from the top of Sam’s spine to the dip of his lower back where it disappeared in the grey fabric that seemed to cling in all of the right places.

 

 Sam was not as muscular as he had once been but the lean muscles that now played beneath the skin of his shoulders and back made Dean’s mouth water and fingers itch. He wanted to touch Sam so badly it was a physical ache.

He had to stop himself from walking to his brother and placing his lips on the smooth skin at the top of Sam’s spine.

 In the end, he did nothing.

 

 “Sam?” His voice startled Sam and he whirled to face his brother before sitting gingerly on the bed. Dean’s eyes were drawn to the black stitching marring the smooth skin of Sam’s stomach.

 

 Then to the bruises on Sam’s neck in the shape of fingers that were becoming a truly spectacular shade of yellow and purple.

 

 Sam self consciously put his hand over the wound on his stomach, his lips tightening with discomfort. He looked completely exhausted.

 

 It hurt him to see Sam hurting. Some things never changed.

 

 “Lay down, Sammy and let me take a look at that.”

 

 Sam complied readily, realizing the shower had sapped the last of his strength. Maybe he should have taken up Dean on his offer to help.

 

 The first thought that had come to his mind when Dean had said he would help get Sam cleaned up was that he would be in close quarters with a wet and naked Dean Winchester.

 

 Even as bone-weary as he was, the picture that his mind conjured was one from years ago. The both of them in a tiny motel shower, not caring that it was cramped and the water pressure was for shit. All they had cared about was touching each other with mouth and tongue, fingers exploring slick wet skin and then Dean had fallen to his knees, hands gripping Sam’s thighs, lips parted to….

 

 Sam felt flushed and he must look that way too because Dean was looking at him with an odd expression.

 

 “You okay, Sammy?”

 

 “Yeah, I’m fine” Sam stammered. “Just, you know, tired.”

 

 Dean just nodded and turned his attention to inspecting Sam’s injury. When he was satisfied that the stitches were holding and there was no infection, he applied a fresh bandage, careful not to cause Sam any unnecessary pain.

 

 His big brother might be loud and brash and the best hunter on the planet but, when he was tending to a sick or wounded Sam, he was gentle and tender.

 

 Not that Dean would ever admit it to anyone.

 

 On impulse, Sam took Dean’s hand in his and smiled at the surprise on his brother’s face.

 

 “Thank you, Dean, for taking such good care of me.” He looked down at his brother’s hand and threaded their fingers. It felt good to touch Dean again this way. It felt right.

 

 Dean must have thought the same, because he didn’t snatch his hand away which Sam thought might be in the realm of possibility. Instead, he squeezed Sam’s fingers lightly.

 

 “I obviously need to do a better job.” He was smiling as he said it but Sam could see the underlying guilt.

 

 “It wasn’t your fault, Dean. It happened, that’s it.” He fixed Dean with an intent gaze.

 

 “Dean. What did you do when you thought I was dead?”

 

 Dean sighed and stood up, his back to Sam. The tense set of his brother’s shoulders told Sam that he really wasn’t going to like what Dean had to say.

 

 He was right.

 

 “I pulled a Romeo.”

 

 “I’m sorry. You what?” Sam wasn’t sure he had heard him correctly.

 

 This was harder than Dean had thought it would be. He knew Sam would be upset and his little brother did not disappoint.

 

 “Romeo, Sam. Shakespeare? Wherefore art thou and all that crap? Any of this ring a bell?” Dean faced his brother.

 

 “You know, the one where the kid drinks poison because…”, Dean continued.

 

 Sam cut him off. “He thought Juliet was dead.”

 

 “That’s the one.”

 

 Sam’s face had drained of all color except for two spots of red high on his cheekbones..

 

 “You thought I was dead so you killed yourself?” He shifted himself to the edge of the bed, then stood swaying unsteadily.

 “Let me get this straight. You thought I was dead so you took poison.” Sam closed his eyes, the crease between his eyes as deep as Dean had ever seen it.

 “Well, it was actually a fistful of narcotics.” This was not how he had pictured tonight. He just wanted to hold Sam and reassure himself that Sam was warm and alive.

 

“What the _hell_ were you thinking?”

 

“I wasn’t thinking, Sammy.” Dean swallowed heavily, the memory of how alone, how bereft he had felt making it hard to get the words out.

 

“I thought if I could talk to Billie-”

 

“Billie?” Sam’s voice reverberated off of the cement walls. “The reaper who wants to throw us into the empty? The one who said no more second chances? That Billie?”

 

Sam frowned. “Then how are you alive? She just let you go?”

 

“Michelle got the doctor and she was able to revive me.” Dean looked away from the incredulity in his brother’s face.

 

Sam seemed to gather himself and repeated, “What. The. Hell. Were you thinking, Dean?”

 

The first three words clipped while the last were run together.

 

Dean’s answer was simple.“That I had to try to get you back, Sammy.”

 

As Sam took several shaky steps toward his brother, his legs seemed to collapse beneath him and he sprawled in an ungainly heap.

 

It was a replay of Sam’s fall in the hospital after he had shot Corbin. Then, he had collapsed from blood loss and pure exhaustion.

.

This time he collapsed under an onslaught that was purely emotional. The knowledge that, once again, he had almost lost this brother.

 

Dean kneeled beside Sam, brushed back the long hair that obscured his brother’s face.

 

The tear-stained face that was revealed made Dean’s stomach fall.

 

Dammit. He hated to see Sam cry. Especially when he was the cause.

 

He reached out to brush the moisture from Sam’s cheek and was jerked forward, his face within inches of Sam’s.

 

Sam’s eyes shone bright with tears and pent up emotion.  All Dean could think about was the proximity of his lips to his brothers and he had to restrain himself from closing the gap between them and kissing his brother for the first time in six years.

 

That would shut him up. Or maybe Sam would punch him. After all, he deserved it.

 

If he was kissing Sam, then he wouldn’t have to see the look of utter betrayal on Sam’s face.

 

Fuck.

 

“I want you to listen to me Dean.” He took a deep breath before continuing. All color had drained from Sam’s face now. He no longer looked angry or upset. He just looked pale and tired again.

 

“You have to stop this.” Sam’s large hands cupped the sides of Dean’s face. ‘What if the doctor hadn’t been able to bring you back?”

 

“Sammy, I...”. Dean’s voice trailed off because he hadn’t thought beyond the immediate reaction of ‘get Sammy back’.

 

“You would have left me alone, Dean.” Sam dropped  his hands from his brother’s face. God he was so tired. He was beyond exhausted trying to make his big brother understand how much he meant to him.

 

“When are you going to understand that I don’t want to live without you, Dean?” The tears that had stopped for a moment started to trickle down Sam’s face once again.

 

Dean reached out, touched Sam’s cheek. “I’m sorry, Sammy.”

 

“I let the Darkness into the world because I couldn’t lose you.” Sam continued. “If you trade your life for mine ever again, I will follow you to Winchesterland or Hell or the Empty.”

 

“Nothing will keep me from finding you, Dean.”

 

Dean swallowed heavily. Sam looked wrung out, physically and emotionally exhausted. But to hear Sam say these words meant everything.

 

“Do you get me, Dean? Do you understand?”

 

Dean cupped his brother’s face in his palms, mirroring what Sam had done earlier.

“I get it, Sam. I do.”

 

Sam could barely hold his head upright, so Dean helped him stand and limp the few steps to the bed.

 

He made sure that Sam’s fall hadn’t torn any of his stitches, then helped his very pliant little brother get settled beneath the covers.

 

He leaned down and kissed Sam on his forehead, allowing himself to linger for just a  moment. All of a sudden, he felt drained. He wasn’t going anywhere else today.

 

Dean stood, ready to go to his own room, but Sam reached out, grabbed his hand. “Stay.”

 

He nodded and stripped down to his boxers and t-shirt before climbing in next to Sam. It had been forever since they had shared a bed.

 

Sam settled against him with a sigh and Dean closed his eyes, surrounded by the scent and feel of his little brother.

 

For the first time in a long time, he fell into a dreamless sleep.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

After that first day back in the bunker, Dean had no choice but to go shopping. So after making Sam take a pain pill and promise to stay in bed, he drove to the local Natural Grocers.

 

Sam’s appetite wasn’t at it’s best, so he wanted to get things that might tempt Sam to eat. He had stashed some money from his last pool game and he couldn’t think of a better way to spend it than on Sam.

 

Dean filled up his shopping cart with ingredients for spaghetti and his special burgers. He picked out a couple of really nice steaks(for what he hoped would be a special night) and all the fixings.

 

The main reason he had decided to go to this particular grocery store was the fact that everything was natural and organic, even the good stuff. But what had made the decision easy was their huge selection of local, organic produce.

 

Dean loaded up on everything for the perfect salad, even kale. Sniffing the package, he wrinkled his nose in distaste.

 

Sammy would have all of the fresh fruit he could eat in the next week. Strawberries, blueberries and blackberries all from local farms. Glossy red apples from local orchards and some exotic fruits that he wasn’t even sure Sam had ever eaten.

 

Dean pondered the apples piled in the brown paper bag. Another memory surfaced, unbidden, of a sunny fall day not long after he had returned from Purgatory.

 

_“We just spent a week chasing our asses trying to lock Kevin down, okay? And look at us. We’re - where the hell are we?”_

 

_Sam had showed dean the apple he held in his hand. “Farmers Market. Organic. What? I had a year off. I took time to enjoy the good things.”_

 

_“While avoiding what we actually do.”_

 

_“Wow, Dean, does it feel that much better every time you say it?” Sam had taken a bite out of the apple, almost in defiance. At least it had seemed that way at the time._

 

_“All right, man, look I get it. You took a year off to do yoga and play the lute, or whatever, but I’m back. Okay, we’re back”, Dean amended at the look on Sam’s face, “which means we walk and kill monsters at the same time. We’ll find Kevin. But in the meantime, do we ignore stuff like this?”_

 

_He had sneered at his little brother, wanting to hurt Sam as much as he was hurting. “Or are innocent people supposed to die so you can shop for produce?”_

 

Turning away, he hadn’t missed the pain that had clouded his brother’s eyes. And things had just become worse between them in the next few weeks.

 

One memory faded into another. His brother, in a dilapidated church, so thin and so pale, palm dripping blood, so close to slamming the gate of hell.

 

_“Metatron lied. You finish this trial, you’re dead, Sam.”_

 

_Sam had looked desperate, exhausted, and when he spoke, Dean’s heart had broken completely in two._

 

_“So?”_

 

_“Look at him. Look how close we are.” Sam had looked frantic. “ Other people will die if I don’t finish this!”_

 

_Dean had taken a careful step forward, not wanting to panic Sam into finishing the ritual._

 

_“Think about it. Think about what we know, huh? Pulling souls from hell, curing demons, hell, ganking a Hellhound. We have enough knowledge on our side to turn the tide here. But I can’t do it without you.”_

 

_Sam had laughed, anguish etched into every line of his face. “You can barely do it with me. You think I screw up everything I try. You think I need a chaperone, remember?”_

 

_Dean had felt sick. He had not understood until now just how broken his little brother had become._

 

_“Come on, man. That’s not what I meant.”_

 

_Sam shook his head. “No. It’s exactly what you meant.” Dean could see Sam’s throat working as he tried desperately to get his next words out._

 

_“You want to know what I confessed in there? What my greatest sin was? It was how many times I let you down.”_

 

An announcement over the sound system about the latest sale on whole food vitamins brought Dean back to the present.

 

He moved through the aisles now, overcome with an overwhelming desire to be back at home. With Sam.

 

Finally, he was in the Impala, eating up the short distance between him and the bunker that protected everything he held dear.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first thing Dean did when he got back to the bunker was check on Sam. The door to Sam’s room stood slightly ajar so he nudged it open quietly and he released the breath that he hadn’t realized he had been holding.

 

Sam was propped against the pillows just as Dean had left him, the novel he had been reading lay by his open palm . The covers were in a tangle around his legs and his face was turned toward the small lamp on his bedside table, the soft light spilling across his features, emphasizing the angle of his cheekbones, the dusky pink of his lips.

 

It hit him like a punch to the gut, the similarity between the way Sam looked now and the way he had looked in that cabin.

 

_You almost lost him. For good this time. No amount of bargaining or pleading would have brought him back to you._

 

Dean dropped to his knees beside the bed, the tears he had been holding back now threatening to spill forth like a dam giving way.

 

 _Goddammit_.

 

Sam was here, alive and beautiful and strong, jesus, his little brother was so _strong_. Always had been, even when he was young, just learning to navigate the world, with a father who drank too much and was obsessed with all the evil things that had intruded upon his life and with a big brother who, even then, loved his stubborn little brother too much.

 

Why had they let so much come between them?

 

Why had he?

 

Because, yeah, Sam had done some shit and said things that had hurt Dean to the core but he had apologized and let Dean know in so many ways just how sorry he actually was.

 

At this point, Dean could be honest with himself. For anything Sam might have done, Dean had made him pay for it tenfold.

 

No one could hurt Dean more than Sam and he had made sure that his little brother had known exactly how hurt and disappointed he had been.

 

Oh, Dean Winchester was a master at holding a grudge and looking at Sam’s pale face and bruised throat, he just wanted to turn back the clock and take it all back.

 

How many times had he thought the exact same thing?

 

I call do-over, dammit.

 

He covered Sam’s hand with his own and whispered, “I’m sorry, Sammy. So sorry.”

 

Bringing Sam’s hand to his lips, he placed gentle kisses on his brother’s bruised knuckles.

 

“Dean?” At the sight of his brother’s tear-stained face, Sam went from barely awake to fully alert in the matter of seconds. “What’s wrong, Dean?”

 

He sat up too quick and grabbed at his side, wincing at the sharp pain. “Dean”, he leaned back against the pillows again, grasping Dean’s hand in a tight grip. “Tell me what’s wrong. Is it your ribs? Are you in pain?”

 

Dean shook his head, moved to sit on the side of the bed, entwined their fingers, kissed the back of Sam’s hand one more time.

 

He felt Sam tremble at the touch of his lips, did it again, touching with the just  the tip of his tongue to taste and heard his brother gasp.

 

Releasing Sam’s hand, he moved closer and reaching out, cupped his brother’s cheek, stroking lightly over the cheekbone.

 

Sam closed his eyes at his brother’s intimate touch. He had missed this part of their relationship so very much but hadn’t known how to breach the chasm that stood between them.

 

“God, Sam, you’re so beautiful, you know that? So beautiful and everything I’ve ever wanted.” He paused, looked into Sam’s eyes (swirls of blue, green and gold, the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen) and saw his little brother’s heart laid bare.

 

“I want what we had, Sammy”, then shook his head before continuing, “no, not what we had. I want it to be better.”

 

“I’m so sorry, Sammy”, repeated his words from earlier now that his brother could hear him.

 

“Dean-”

 

“Let me say this, Sam.” He combed his fingers through the dark strands, not missing how his brother relaxed as he did. “I’m sorry for all the times I acted like you were a disappointment to me. I’m sorry for all the times I hurt you. I’m sorry that I”ve let the last several years go by without telling you how much you mean to me.”

 

Sam’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. He knew his brother had been greatly affected by the events of the last few days. They both had. But he would go through it all again if it led them back to each other.

 

Dean moved even closer, his hand grasping the back of Sam’s neck urging him forward until their lips were mere inches apart.

 

“I should have told you and that’s what I’m going to do from now on.” Dean’s smile was wistful. “I love you, Sammy. And you will never have a reason to doubt that again.”

 

Sam felt light-headed from the meds and lack of food and the nearness of his brother. Dean’s lips hovered just above his, not quite touching, and it was Sam who closed the distance between them.

 

Sam pressed his lips against his brother’s in a feather-soft kiss, almost like the first time they had kissed.

 

He had been sixteen and so in love with his big brother, never dreaming that Dean might feel the same.

 

This time he knew how it felt to have Dean love him and need him and, oh, how he needed (wanted, craved, adored) his big brother.

 

It seemed as if the kiss went on for an eternity, that they would drown in the intoxication of this thing, this feeling, that flowed between them. Their hearts beat together, a rhythm only those who had known the touch of a soulmate would recognize.

 

Dean pressed Sam back into the pillows, his lips placing gentle kisses at the corner of Sam’s mouth, then back to tasting his brother as Sam’s arms crept around his neck to pull him closer.

 

Sam’s lips parted under his and they groaned in unison as their tongues teased and stroked against the other’s in a leisurely exploration. It was sweet and unhurried but no less passionate than the frantic, stolen kisses of their youth.

 

It took all of Dean’s strength to pull away from Sam who made an unhappy sound as they separated.

 

“Don’t stop, Dean. Please.” Sam was flushed, sweat beading at his hairline and Dean couldn’t resist catching his brother’s full, red lips with his for one last kiss.

 

“We need to get you better, Sammy. Then we’re going to take some time together.”

 

“What about the Darkness and Cas and -”

 

“And they can wait.” Dean smiled at his brother’s surprised look. “We need to take a couple of weeks, at least, get you better and we need some time just me and you, Sam. Just a little.”  He placed a tender kiss on Sam’s forehead. “I love you, Sammy.”

 

Sam knew that his brother was right. The demons and monsters would always be there. And he was so tired. So fucking tired and so fucking selfish.

 

Looking into his brothers eyes(he could drown in that sea of emerald and the depth of the devotion he saw ), Sam said the only thing he could in the face of his brother’s love. The only thing that made any sense at the moment.

 

“I love you too, Dean.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next week saw Sam get a little stronger every day under Dean’s watchful eye, of course.

 

He made sure that Sam did nothing too strenuous the first couple of days they were back in the bunker. They snuggled together on Dean’s bed and binge watched ‘Stranger Things’, caught up on ‘Game of Thrones’ and watched their favorite movies again.

 

All of Dean’s culinary skills went toward tempting Sam’s appetite. Sam tried to eat no matter how he felt just to see his brother’s fond smile directed his way.

 

And the fact that Dean took every opportunity to touch him made Sam realize how touch-starved he had actually become. When he had told Dean he needed his back-seat encounter with Piper, he hadn’t necessarily meant the sex. Sam had needed the intimacy, the skin-on-skin contact with another person. He had needed someone to touch him beyond his brother evaluating possible injuries or the occasional quick hug.

 

It was under his brother’s hands that Sam came to life. No one had ever made him feel sensation, passion, _desire,_ the way Dean had. A casual touch from Dean had always had as much effect on him as any sexual act with someone else.

 

And now, he had Dean’s total focus much as he had when their relationship had first started. Dean’s fingers entwined with his while they watched television or his hand lay on Sam’s thigh, fingers lazily stroking the threadbare material of Sam’s sleep pants.

 

Sam couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so content.

 

Nights, they lay together, sometimes Dean behind Sam his arms around him in a safe cocoon. Other times Sam would lay his head on Dean’s chest and fall asleep to the beating of his brother’s amazing heart.

 

The time before they slept was reserved for slow, unhurried making out. Languid kisses that seemed to go on and on as they savored the taste of each other with lips and tongue.

 

Dean’s lips would linger on Sam’s throat, kissing the bruising there tenderly. Sam would shiver as his brother did penance for believing Sam’s injuries were somehow his fault for not protecting him adequately.

 

And Dean would whisper at least a dozen times against Sam’s mouth, his neck, his hair.

 

“I love you, Sam. I love you so much.”

 

Sam never thought he would have this again with his brother. Never dared to let himself hope.

 

And he certainly never imagined that Dean would be so open with his affection. He would never get tired of hearing Dean say ‘I love you’.

 

Maybe he owed some werewolves a fruit basket.

 

Three days of rest and Dean’s cooking along with three nights in his brother’s arms had Sam feeling much better.

 

In total, it had been a week since he had been shot. And so much had changed in that short time.

 

His brother loved him. And he actually expressed that sentiment in word. Full sentences, even.

 

Physically, they had done nothing besides kissing and cuddling and, as amazing as that was, Sam wanted more. He wanted the touch of Dean’s skin against his, the feel of Dean’s hands on his body.

 

And he wanted to touch his gorgeous big brother in all the ways that would make him gasp Sam’s name.

 

After all, Sam’s wound was healing rapidly. Just this morning, Dean had told him that he  thought he would be able to remove the stitches in a day or two.

 

Now, they lay in each other’s arms, the kisses no longer slow and sweet. Instead, Dean’s mouth slanted across his brother’s, deepening the kiss. His hands were caught up in Sam’s hair, while Sam licked into his mouth, then pulled away, tugging on Dean’s plush bottom lip.

 

Dean groaned as Sam’s hands found their way under his t-shirt, gliding across smooth skin, fingers sliding inside the waistband of his sweats.

 

Sam was breathless, mouth moving against Dean’s throat, sucking a bruise into the soft flesh. “I’m not gonna break, Dean.”

 

“God, Sammy, you feel so good.” He ran his hand down Sam’s thigh, brushing his knuckles against Sam’s hard cock.

 

His little brother honest-to-god whimpered and the sound went straight to his own dick.

 

“It’s been too long, Dean. I need you.”  Sam grabbed Dean’s hand and placed it between his legs, closed his eyes at the sensation, then slowly drew it over his hard length showing Dean just how much he wanted him.

 

Dean leaned down, catching Sam’s lips in a kiss all the while stroking his brother’s dick lightly through the thin boxers he wore.

 

Sam bit his lip, moving his hips just enough to push into the friction from his brother’s hand.

 

“ You let me do all the work, okay?” Dean chuckled at his brother’s vigorous nod of agreement, loving the way Sam’s  hair moved in soft waves around his face.

 

He helped Sam get his t-shirt over his head and then he slowly pulled off Sam’s boxers. Dean swallowed, amazed that he could still have this. Have Sam.

 

“So gorgeous, little brother. So beautiful.”

 

Dean wondered if it would be possible for him to come from the sight of his little brother, naked, those normally multicolored eyes of his darkened with desire to a dark mossy green. The long, lovely line of him spread out before Dean like the world’s most

sumptuous buffet.

 

And he was a starving man.

 

He quickly divested himself of his clothes and laid back down beside Sam who reached out to runs his hands over Dean’s shoulders, down his arms loving the muscular feel of his brother.

 

“Please, Dean,” Sam breathed.

 

Dean watched Sam’s face as he wrapped his fingers around Sam’s cock, squeezing the base, loving his obvious pleasure at Dean’s touch.

 

As be began to stroke Sam’s cock, a constant stream of“DeanyesohgodDeanDean” fell from Sam’s lips.

 

Sam couldn’t stop himself from thrusting up into Dean’s fist. He wasn’t going to last at all, was going to come in a few minutes just like he had when he was a teenager and they had first began to explore this side of their relationship.

 

The rhythm became faster, Dean’s grip just this side of too hard but perfect just the same. Sam became aware of Dean rubbing his own hard dick against Sam’s hip and that was too much .

 

He came, crying out his brother’s name, and then Dean was kissing him hard, swallowing up his moans as wave after wave of pleasure surged through him. He felt Dean come against his hip as he continued to work Sam’s cock and another surge of pleasure went through Sam’s body almost too intense to bear.

 

They lay together, sticky and sweaty and tired. Dean looked down at his little brother, strands of hair sticking to his forehead and cheeks, flushed from sex and smiling dopily as his hands slid through the sweat on Dean’s back.

 

“You happy, Sammy?”

 

Sam didn’t answer immediately and Dean’s heart lurched.

 

“I’m beyond happy, Dean. But I am a little disappointed that I didn’t get to blow you. I wanted you to come in my mouth.”

 

Dean’s spent cock twitched in interest at the picture of Sam’s wide mouth and pretty pink lips wrapped around his dick.

 

“Next time.”

 

“Promise?”

 

“Anything for you, little brother.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The next morning Sam was actually up before Dean. It had always been his routine to get up early and get in a run if he could but since they had come back home, he had been unable to because of his injury.

 

He decided he would put it off for a couple of more days. All he could think of was a shower and some strong coffee.

 

And maybe he could surprise Dean with breakfast in bed

.

And then maybe he could have Dean for breakfast.

 

The hot water felt incredible beating down on his body. They had fallen asleep before they could clean up and as he washed their mingled come off of his stomach and hip, it hit him that what he had wanted for almost seven years had finally happened.

 

Dean wanted him again. Dean loved him.

 

He felt dizzy with the implications of what this could mean. No more nights waiting for Dean to come back from a late-night hookup, smelling of sex and booze. No more wondering if he was alone in wanting their relationship back to the way it had been.

 

And Dean _loved_ him.

 

He had been afraid he had lost Dean. That maybe, Dean was staying with him out of obligation and a fucked up sense of responsibility.

 

That it wasn’t love keeping his brother with him but a sense of duty.

 

But now….Dean had said he loved him and that, not only did he want their old relationship back, he wanted a better version.

 

An idea began to form in Sam’s mind and the more he thought about it, the more he wanted it.

 

Now, he just had to convince Dean.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

He met Dean coming out of the shower room. “You leave me any hot water, Sammy?”

 

Sam rolled his eyes and leaned down to give his brother a quick kiss. “I’m going to start the coffee.”

 

“God, yes.” Dean put his hands on Sam’s bare chest and smirked as he felt Sam’s instant physical reaction to his nearness through the thin towel.

 

Dean brushed Sam’s lips with his own, soft and tender, but Sam wanted more. With Dean in his arms, pressed up against him, how could he not?

 

He ran his tongue along the seam of Dean’s lips then licked inside, his tongue teasing his brother’s.  Dean made a noise, deep in his chest, as Sam continued to kiss him thoroughly and well. All he could do was hold on and enjoy the ride.

 

Sam’s hands palmed his ass through the sweats he had pulled on, and he was tugged forward, and god, he could feel Sam’s erection rubbing against his own, and he could stand here forever just like this, wrapped up in his brother’s arms.

 

With one last swipe of Dean’s gorgeous lips, Sam pulled back, then leaned his forehead against his brother’s.

 

“Take your shower, Dean.” He grinned then strode away, leaving his extremely turned on brother staring at the sight of his broad shoulders and very fine ass(Dean thought it was, hands down the best ass he had ever laid eyes on).

 

“It’s going to be a cold one.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The smell of bacon greeted Dean as he stepped into the kitchen.  Sam was just sliding a mound of cheesy scrambled eggs onto a plate to which he added six strips of the perfectly crispy bacon and two pieces of sourdough toast dripping with butter. He then placed the whole thing on the table where a steaming cup of strong, black coffee already sat.

 

Sam smiled and gestured toward the food. “Sit down.”

 

“You made me breakfast.” Sam sat, sipping his coffee and watched Dean fork a huge bite of eggs into his mouth. His brother closed his eyes, savoring the taste. “It’s good, Sammy.” He waved his fork in Sam’s direction. “You’re not having some?

 

“I had a piece of toast.” Sam sipped at his coffee, sat the mug on the table, then picked it up again.

 

Alarm bells went off in Dean’s head. Sam was nervous about something. Surely it wasn’t about last night. From his actions in the shower room this morning, Dean didn’t think that was it so what was bothering him?

 

He watched as Sam picked up the coffee mug again and then set it down with a thud.

 

Dean reached over, placing his hand over Sam’s. “What’s wrong?”

 

Sam looked at his brother, biting at his lip. He looked down at where Dean’s hand covered his and than back up at his brother.

 

“Remember when I asked you if you had ever thought about settling down with someone?” He turned his hand so that he was clasping Dean’s.

 

“If memory serves, you said someone like a hunter.”

 

“Right.” Sam was still biting at his lip, seeming nothing like the confident man who had kissed him silly not thirty minutes ago.

 

Dean leaned forward, capturing Sam’s eyes that seemed to look everywhere but at him. He brought Sam’s hand to his lips, kissing it lightly.

 

“Sam, I love you. I know I haven’t done a great job of making you believe that but it’s true. So tell me what is bothering you.”

 

Sam let out a shaky breath, then in one quick motion he knelt in front of Dean.

 

“I love you, Dean. I always have. I’ve never loved anyone else the way I love you.” He paused. A pained look crossed his face. “Not even Jess.”

 

“Sammy, I know.” Dean tucked a stray curl behind Sam’s ear. His voice was heavy with regret. “I’ve wasted so much time we could have had together.

 

His little brother was shaking his head. “No, not you. Us. We both made mistakes. Whatever we’ve lost is on both of us.”

 

“But you said you wanted our relationship to be different this time. Better.”

 

Dean leaned forward, placed a light kiss on Sam’s nose. “Something tells me you have an idea about how we can do that.”

 

Sam’s eyes were on the floor again but when he looked up, in his eyes Dean could see love, devotion and something that was both hopeful and apprehensive at the same time.

 

How could anyone deny his little brother anything when he looked at them like that?

 

Dean had certainly never been able to and he knew that whatever Sam was going to ask him, the answer would be yes.

 

“I want to make us official.”

 

“Are you proposing to me, Sammy?” Dean’s heart felt like it was going to explode, just like that case with the guy whose heart had literally jumped out of his chest.

 

“Sort of, I guess.” Sam went on quickly. “I mean, yes. I thought we could have a handfasting ceremony.”

 

“Handfasting? Isn’t that Wiccan or something?”

 

Sam stood, pacing back and forth. “ Actually, it’s of Celtic origin.” Dean looked bemused as Sam went on, clearly in his element. “ Scotland, specifically. It was used during medieval times as a betrothal or engagement ceremony of sorts. Now, pagans and Wiccans, really anyone who is interested in alternative marriage ceremonies, use it as a binding or commitment ceremony.”

 

“When did you research this?” Dean had no idea that he could still make Sam blush. It was adorable.

 

“A long time ago. Before everything happened.” Sam knelt before Dean again. “So, what I am asking is if you want to commit. To me.”

 

Dean wanted to say that he had committed himself to Sam long ago, but still he felt

Sam didn’t quite believe what was happening between them was real. Lasting.

 

And he had thought of something like this, not a marriage ceremony but a way to show Sam just how much he had always meant to him but, more importantly, what he still meant to him.

 

Dean stood up and held out his hand to help Sam to his feet. “Yes. The answer is yes, I want to commit to you. Only you, Sammy. It’s always been you.”

 

Sam’s answering smile was blinding and Dean couldn’t help kissing one of the deep dimples that appeared when Sam was truly happy.

 

“I’ll set everything up. You just need to come up with your vows. It doesn’t have to be anything long formal or long, just what you feel like you want to say. And I think it should just be you and me and the officiant.”

 

Dean just nodded caught up in the whirlwind that was his brother on a mission.

 

Sam hugged Dean to him, whispered in his ear. “I love you, big brother.”

 

Then, he was gone, chattering excitedly about cords and colors and Dean laughed and took a bite of bacon.

 

He almost choked when he realized what Sam had said.

 

“Vows?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

When Sam decided he wanted something, he went after it with a single-minded focus. It was one of the many things he had always admired about his little brother.

 

Sam had been in the library on his laptop for the past few hours. Dean had cleaned up the breakfast dishes, gone down to the garage and gave Baby a good wash and taken a second shower after he decided to give her an oil change as well.

 

He found Sam right where.he had left him. The forehead creases were on prominent display and Dean wanted to go and kiss them away before convincing Sam that now was a good time to make good on the promise he had made last night.

 

His dick thought that was an awesome idea.

 

Laying his hands on Sam’s shoulders, he placed a series of feather light kisses to the side of Sam’s neck.

 

Sam tilted his head, giving Dean better access, and hummed in approval. Dean moved to capture Sam’s lips in a searing kiss, threading his fingers through his brother’s thick hair and it was a long moment before they separated.

 

Dean drew his little brother to his feet, wanting to continue the kiss with his little brother’s body against his so he could he feel the effect that he had on him.

 

“How about a little afternoon delight, Sammy?” He waggled his eyebrows and Sam burst out laughing.

 

“Romance was always your forte, Dean.” He pecked Dean’s cheek, then said, “Come on, and sit down. We need to talk.”

 

Dean groaned in disappointment but did as Sam asked. “What’s up?” Then, with what he thought was one of his sexiest smiles, he murmured, “Besides my dick?”

 

Sam rolled his eyes but he looked a little flushed. “Well, that’s sort of one of the things I wanted to talk about.”

 

“My dick?” Dean grinned. “I like it.”

 

“Stop it, Dean, I’m trying to be serious.” As he said it, he shifted in his chair, trying to make himself more comfortable. Dean could get him from zero to rock hard in a matter of seconds.

 

Dean looked pointedly at  the bulge in the crotch of his little brother’s sleep pants, but decided to stop teasing Sam and listen.

 

“Okay, Sammy, sorry.”

 

“Well, I’ve set up the date for the hand-fasting.” At Dean’s surprised look, he continued. “I’ve always had a list of officiants close by in a file, just in case.” The look in Sam’s eyes was dreamy, almost wistful and the thought of Sam looking for Wiccans or hippy priests to perform a commitment ceremony made Dean’s chest tight. After everything, all of the fighting and arguing and general crappiness, Sam never stopped hoping he and Dean would find their way back to each other.

 

Sam had always been the one with the faith.

 

“So, it’s going to be the day after tomorrow.”

 

Dean’s head snapped up. “Wow, little brother, you don’t waste any time.”

 

“That’s okay, right?” Oh, for god’s sake, didn’t he realize that he didn’t need to use those puppy dog eyes on Dean?

 

Dean really couldn’t deny his little brother anything. Especially, now.

 

“Okay, so where are we going?

 

Sam turned the laptop where Dean could see it. The screen showed a majestic snow-capped mountain reflecting in a clear blue lake surrounded by green. It was gorgeous.

 

“It called the Maroon Bells.” Sam looked pleased at his brother’s awe-struck look. “I spoke to Lily and she said they’ve only had light snow and while it’s probably going to be cold, there’s a warming trend over the next couple of days.”

 

“Jesus, Sammy, you want to marry me on a mountain?” Dean lean forward, placed a kiss his brother’s soft lips. “You always have been the romantic. And who is Lily?”

 

“She’s a Neo-Druid High Priestess.” At Dean’s questioning look, he continued. “I met her on one of my solo hunts when we were apart after Amy.”

 

Sam looked uncomfortable and the part of Dean’s brain that always screamed _‘mineminemine_ ’ in regards to his little brother reared its ugly head.

 

“So did she do more than help you with your hunt?” Dean winced as the question came sharper than intended.

 

“NO. No, Dean, it was nothing like that.” He gazed at Dean with so much adoration that Dean felt instantly guilty for even thinking Sam had used this woman for more than information. “You have absolutely nothing to be jealous about. Ever.”

 

Sam gave his brother a chaste peck on the cheek. “Also, I don’t want to have any more sex until after the ceremony.”

 

Dean blinked in confusion, not sure he had heard his brother correctly. “Ummm...what?”

 

“I want us to have a special night. Not a wedding night or anything, but it’s been so long and I just want it to be well…. _special_.”

 

Dean knew that Sam was expecting him to call him a girl or argue with him, but he understood. Even if his plans for the night were now dashed, he understood.

 

“Okay, Sammy.”

 

“Okay? Just like that?”

 

“Yep. Just like that.” Dean smiled at Sam’s expression. “I get it and I agree. So when do we leave?

 

His brother was practically vibrating with excitement.”It will probably take us about six hours to drive there. Lily’s arranging everything. Even what we’re wearing.” Sam’s eyes sparkled playfully. “And yes, it’s going to be romantic.”

 

Dean laughed. “Good.” He looked at his watch and saw that it was already past two in the afternoon.”Why don’t I make us some lunch and then we’ll get those stitches out. Then maybe we can watch the new Star Wars movie.”

 

“I think that sounds like an excellent plan, big brother.” Sam’s hand grabbed Dean’s before he could walk away. “Thank you for doing this, Dean. It’s mean a lot to me.”

 

“It means a lot to me too, Sam. You mean a lot to me and by that, I mean everything.”

Sam swallowed heavily, not trusting himself to speak. Instead he use his mouth on his brother’s to convey everything he couldn’t say at that moment.

 

After all, non-verbal communication was one of Sam’s better skills.

Dean agreed, wholeheartedly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They arrived at the cabin at close to three in the afternoon. Once they had neared the mountains, the drive became filled with the gorgeous scenery surrounding the Maroon Bells.

 

Snow lay heavy on the ground and dusted the trees surrounding the valley between the twin mountains. The Bells overlooked it all, a commanding presence in all their stark beauty.

 

Their cabin was at the end of one of the mountain roads and they both gaped as they pulled in front.

 

It was two stories, constructed of dark logs and nestled in between aspen and blue spruce. Everything was covered in soft white powder and it was both stunningly picturesque and homey.

 

They looked at each other. “Wow.”

 

Inside was perfect, all honeyed wood and plaid, a cheery fire burning in the fireplace. The fridge and pantry were both fully stocked with enough provisions for a horde of people.

 

“Awesome”, Dean breathed.

 

They put their duffles in the downstairs bedroom that had another fireplace and a king-size bed.

 

Dean pushed Sam backwards onto the soft bed, kissing him breathless in between their laughter. For once, even with Amara and Cas and Lucifer out there, they felt light-hearted. They were both determined that nothing would shatter their joy.

 

After several moments, they stilled, Sam on his back and Dean propped on his elbow, his fingers carding through Sam’s hair. His little brother was almost purring in contentment.

 

“Have I told you today how amazing you are?”

 

Sam grinned, his eyes opening to stare into the soft emerald ones of his brother. “Not today.”

 

“I’m serious, Sam. After everything you’ve been through, all that you’ve endured, you are still this kind, loving, incredible person.”

 

“We’ve both endured, Dean, and come out on the other side.” He reached up to stroke Dean’s cheek. “I hope you know how amazing I think you are.”

 

Dean ducked his head, still not used to hearing a compliment directed his way.

 

“I mean it, Dean. I’ve only ever wanted to be someone you could be proud of.”

 

“You’ve always made me proud, little brother.”

 

They lay, side by side, gazing at one another, marveling that they were still together.

 

Finally, they drifted off to sleep, holding one another close.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

They awoke, later, still in each other’s arms. The room was dark, except for the light of the dwindling fire.

 

Looking at one another, they both said at the same time, “I’m starving.”

 

Dean made them huge sandwiches, added chips and, of course, a couple of  beers, while Sam added more wood to the fireplace in their bedroom.

 

They ate by firelight, sharing kisses in between bites of food. It was like time had reversed itself and they were giddy teenagers awash in the glow of first love.

 

Afterwards, they cleaned up and decided to make it an early night. Sam still tired quicker than he would otherwise and Dean was perfectly happy having a naked little brother in his arms.

 

Dean wrapped his arm around Sam, pulling him against him, his front to Sam’s back. His fingers traced down the column of Sam’s throat, over his chest, nails scratching through the soft hair there, before settling over Sam’s heart.

 

A contented sigh and Sam’s hand covering Dean’s, told him his little brother was drifting off to sleep. Dean relaxed, burying his nose in the dark, silky curls in front of him, the scent of his brother all around him. Soon he was breathing in time with his little brother.

 

Their dreams were of each other.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning dawned, clear and cold. The fire had died down to embers but the brothers were warm and comfortable wrapped around each other.

 

Which was why Dean did not want to move. Sam’s body heat was probably enough to heat the entire room and Dean was positively toasty. They had moved during the night and he was now on his back with Sam’s long limbs wrapped around him and his head on Dean’s chest.

 

The clock on the bedside table said it was a little after eight in the morning. Sam showed no sign of waking at the moment, and, after all he needed his rest. He was still recuperating.

 

So he did what any amazing big brother would do. He pulled the comforter higher, snuggled into his little brother and went back to sleep.

 

It was almost eleven when they finally began to stir. Sam groaned as he tried to untangle his limbs from his brothers. Dean woke to the feel of Sam’s lips brushing his,

 

“It’s cold,” Sam complained then burrowed back under the covers, wrapping long arms around his brother.

 

“Is that the only reason you woke me up? So I”d get up and get the heat going?”

 

Sam leveled the full force of his puppy-dog eyes on Dean and just shook his head.

 

“You know, that should not work now that you’re a grown man.” Dean swore as he got up from the warm bed. “I’m gonna freeze by damn balls off.”

 

His little brother just snickered and pulled the comforter up to his chin. “Well, the view’s good from where I’m at.”

 

Dean was leaning over trying to find his pants, providing Sam with a great look at his naked ass.

 

He finally dug up a pair of sweats and pulled them on, but not before giving a little wiggle for Sam’s benefit. “You have no shame, little brother.”

 

“Not where you’re concerned.”

 

Pulling on one of Sam’s tshirts, Dean leaned over and kissed Sam soundly. “I’ll be right back.”

 

Twenty minutes later, both fireplaces we’re going and Dean returned from the kitchen with two mugs of coffee and two cinnamon rolls.

 

They ate their breakfast in bed, feeding each other little pieces of the sticky sweet. Sam sucked each of Dean’s fingers clean, looking at him from under his lashes,  knowing full well the effect he had on his brother.

 

Dean pulled Sam to him, crushing their lips together in a fierce kiss, licking inside his brother’s mouth, tasting and teasing with his tongue until Sam was breathless.

 

He tucked Sam’s hair behind his ear, placed his lips where he could whisper. “I can’t wait for tonight. I’m going to kiss every inch of you, Sammy.” He smiled when he felt Sam shiver.

 

They decided to make use of the huge walk-in shower that stood in the corner of the adjoining bathroom, plenty big enough for two. Their hands touched each other almost reverently. This was not about sex. It was about the feel of soap-slick skin under fingertips that lightly caressed a shoulder before moving on to skim over a nipple then trailing over a taut stomach.

 

Dean gently washed Sam’s long hair, something that Dean had always loved to do for his brother. Sam was pliant and Dean was able to move him where he wanted him until he finally moved under the spray, leaning back for Dean to help rinse it clean.

 

It was all Dean could do to not fall to his knees in front of his brother right then and there. He wanted to wrap his lips around his brothers dick and taste him, take everything Sam wanted to give him.

 

Instead, he kissed him slowly, lovingly, the cascade of warm water protecting them from the cold.

 

The rest of the day was spent with their own thoughts, preparing for the ceremony later in the day. Finally, it was time to get ready.

 

Lily had provided clothes for them to wear based on the measurements Sam had given her. They put on their best jeans along with the soft wool sweaters that were hanging in the bedroom closet. One was a deep forest green, obviously for Dean, and the other was a sky blue. There were also dark gray peacoats with soft gloves in their sizes.

Sam had plugged the coordinates that Lily had sent him into his GPS and he realized it would be only a ten minute hike from their cabin.

 

They stepped into the cold and linked their hands together then struck out over the snowy landscape to begin the next chapter of their lives.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

There was a small hill behind the cabin and as they crested it they saw a figure standing in the distance dressed all in white. She smiled as they reached her and she held out her hands.

 

“Sam, it’s so good to see you again.” Sam took her hands and she kissed him lightly on the cheek.

 

“Thank you for this, Lily. I would say you don’t know what this meant to me, but I think you do.”

 

“I’m glad to do this for you. You’re a friend.” She let go of Sam’s hands and turned to Dean.

“And you are Sam’s Dean.” At the look of surprise on Dean’s face, her smile grew wider. “Oh yes, Sam told me all about you.”

 

When he looked at Sam, his cheeks were red and not entirely from the cold.

 

Lily stepped back. “We should begin. Once the sun sets the temperature will drop.”

 

“Sam and Dean, please face one another and join hands.”

 

Dean realized he was shaking, not from cold but from emotion. They were going to be together for the rest of their lives, not just as brothers, but as lovers, a couple.

 

Sam squeezed his hands and mouthed ‘I love you.’

 

“Today you are holding the hands of your best friend, strong and full of love for you, as you promise, on this day, to love one another forever.”

 

“These are the hands that will passionately love and cherish you through the years and will comfort you like no other.”

 

“These are the hands that will hold you when fear or grief fills your mind.”

 

“These are the hands that will wipe tears from your eyes, tears of sorrow and tears of joy.”

 

“These are the hands that will give you strength when you need it. And these are the hands, even when wrinkled and aged, that will still be reaching for yours and expressing the same tenderness they do today with just a touch.”

 

From somewhere inside of her coat, she pulled out three long braided cords.

 

“Sam and Dean, these cords are a symbol of the connection between your two lives. As your hands are bound together by these cords, so too will your lives be bound together.”

 

She took one cord and held up to catch the rays of the setting sun.

 

“Sam and Dean, I bid you look into each other’s eyes.”

 

Clear green eyes looked into shining hazel eyes as she continued.

 

“Red is for your passion and strength. May you always have both.”

 

The cord was draped over their hands and then she raised the next in the same way.

 

“Blue is for understanding and loyalty. May you always have both.”

 

This cord was draped over their hands and wound around the first.

 

“And last, gold is for happiness and wisdom. May you always have both.”

 

She draped this one over the other and formed a loose knot.

 

“Do you have vows to speak to one another?”

 

Sam cleared his throat. “We do.”  She nodded and Sam continued.

 

When Sam’s eyes locked on his, Dean felt his own stinging with tears he refused to let fall.  That became even more difficult when Sam began to speak.

 

“I have loved you all my life, Dean. I owe you my life. I owe you everything. Everything that I am is because of you. I love you with every fiber of my being. I need you beside me, always, because living without you is like living in a world where there is no color, no joy, no reason for my heart to beat or my lungs to draw air.”

 

Sam looked away for a moment, tried to gather himself, then went on. “You are my heart, Dean. My soulmate, my blood. And everything thing I am, everything I have, I offer to you.”

 

The rays of the setting sun shone on his brother, making him appear almost other-worldly, ethereal. He eyes had picked up the blue of the sweater he wore and the gold flecks within them seem to shine as bright as the light around them.

 

Dean was dumb-struck by the fact that this stunning man had just offered him everything.

 

He would try his best to deserve him.

 

Lily said quietly, “Dean?”

 

“Umm...yeah. You know I’m not so good with words Sammy, so I decided to borrow a few of someone else’s.”

 

Sam was smiling that brilliant, loving smile, dimples prominent and Dean knew that this smile was the one his brother reserved for him.

 

Clearing his throat, Dean began to speak. “My love is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep; the more I give to thee, the more I have for both are infinite.”

 

Sam’s eyes filled with tears as realized where the beautiful words came from.

 

“I took a few liberties with this one. I don’t think Will is gonna mind.” Dean smiled as Sam laughed happily.

 

“Give me my love; and, when he shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars; and he will make the face of heaven so fine, that all the world will be in love with the night, and pay no worship to the garish sun.”

 

“The world might as well be dark and cold if you’re not here, Sam. You know I would do anything for you. I would give my life for you.”

 

“You have,” Sam murmured.

 

Dean nodded. “Sammy, I love you more than myself but I’m going to make this promise to you. I promise to live for you.”

 

Lily could sense they were done. She stepped forward and somehow removed the cords without untying the knot.

 

Handing the lengths to Dean, she laid one hand on each of their shoulders. “These bindings are yours to keep. Love each other well.”

 

She arched one perfectly shaped brow. “Well, are you going to stand there or are you going to kiss each other?”

 

The last of the sun’s rays dipped behind the trees and a light snow began to fall.

 

Sam laid his palms on either side of his brother’s face, swiping his thumb along Dean’s cheekbone. He pressed his lips against Dean’s and when he pulled back, his eyes were sparkling.

 

“My Romeo.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

They thanked Lily profusely, hugging her until she shooed them away. “It’s cold out here. Go warm each other up.”

 

The walk back to the cabin was substantially colder that the previous one. The sun had set and the snow was coming down harder. The little cabin shone like a beacon in the dark of the winter woods.

 

“I don’t remember leaving all of these lights on”, Sam remarked before opening the door.

 

The fireplace and the gas heater were both lit and burning merrily as well as the fire in the bedroom.

 

When Sam stepped into the bedroom, his mouth dropped open.

 

The room was awash in light from the candles that were on every surface. It was beautiful and Sam was moved by the romantic gesture.

 

“How did you manage this?”

 

Dean just smirked. “I have my ways.” Then, Dean asked anxiously, “You like it, right? I mean it’s not too sappy is it?

 

All of a sudden, Dean’s arms were full of one delighted little brother, covering his face in kisses.

 

“I love it, Dean.” His hands went to the buttons of Dean’s coat, long fingers working each one open. “You’ve made so happy today, Dean.”

 

“You deserve it, Sammy.” His coat fell to the floor, followed by Sam’s. Dean grasped the hem of his brother’s sweater. “Take this off.”

 

Dean sat down on the edge of the bed. “Now come here.” It was said softly but Dean’s voice dropped a notch lower.

 

Sam complied, eagerly. Dean wrapped his arms around Sam’s waist, placing tender kisses on his brother’s stomach. His tongue teased Sam’s navel, causing his muscles to jump under Dean’s lips.

 

Smiling, Dean continued, his lips tracing along the line of Sam’s newest scar. Sam gasped and his hands carded through the short strands of Dean’s hair, as Dean continued to kiss along the extra-sensitive skin.

 

He slid off the bed to his knees, tongue tracing the line of dark hair that disappeared into the waistband of Sam’s jeans.

 

His fingers worked the front of them open, and he could see the swell of Sam’s cock through the fabric of his briefs.

 

Dean looked up at his brother who was trembling, his hands shaking as they stroked Dean’s hair. His mouth was open and his flushed chest heaved as if he couldn’t draw in enough air.

 

In one motion, Dean pulled Sam’s jeans and underwear to his thighs and with no preamble took his brother’s cock into his mouth as far as it could go.

 

“Dean, fuck.” He was afraid he was going to come immediately because this had happened only in his dreams the last few years. It felt incredible because Dean knew just how hard to suck, how to use his tongue to maximize the sensation, how to grip him tight but not too tight as he worked his mouth up and down on his brother’s cock.

 

He grabbed at Dean’s shoulders, urging him to stand, and then Sam was kissing Dean, tasting himself on his brother’s tongue, and groaned as Dean’s hand grabbed his ass kneading the taut flesh.

 

“Want you, Sammy. Need you inside me. Will you fuck me, Sam? I want you to fuck me.”

 

All Sam could do was moan Dean’s name as he licked a stripe down his neck.

 

Clothes were flung to the floor, and when they were naked, they fell on the bed, hands roaming over each other’s bodies, touching and teasing.

 

Sam closed his fist around Dean’s dick and a breath was punched out of his brother as he stroked the hard flesh.

 

“Wanted to feel you again, Dean. God, you’re so gorgeous.”

 

Dean smiled and rolled Sam onto his back. He lay on top, their dicks rubbing together as they shared deep, languid kisses, murmuring endearments when their mouths parted.

 

Sex between them had always been amazing, but what they were doing tonight with each other, to each other, was something else altogether.

 

They worshiped each other with hands and lips and tongue. It was adoration and devotion between two souls bound on both the heavenly and earthly planes. They wrote their own hymns to one another with the stroke of a hand along a muscled thigh or the swipe of a tongue across kiss-swollen lips.

 

Each sigh was a prayer, each touch a benediction.

 

Sam watched his brother, above him, knees on either side of Sam’s thighs. Watched as his brother opened his body with his own fingers, preparing himself before taking his brother inside in one slow, sweet slide.

 

They moved together, in a perfect rhythm, as if they had never been apart. Sam held onto his brother’s hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh and there would be bruises there tomorrow. He watched as Dean worked himself up and down, angling his hips so that Sam’s thrusts would hit just right, crying out at the sensation of Sam, his Sammy, filling him up.

 

Dean came with a shout, the force of the orgasm causing him to see white sparks. He continued to fuck himself through it, clenching around Sam’s dick and then Sam grabbed Dean’s shoulders driving him down onto his cock. Dean felt Sam pulsing within him, and he watched his little brother come apart, saying his brother’s name over and over.

 

They lay together, stick with sweat and come and neither cared at this moment. Dean brushed sweaty strands off his brother’s forehead, before kissing him gently.

 

Dean finally moved to Sam’s side and he smiled as Sam made a small sound of displeasure as he slid from his brother’s body.

 

Laying his head on Sam’s shoulder, Dean looked at his brother. Sam’s eyes were closed. He looked completely satisfied. He looked happy.

 

That was all that mattered. That and the fact that they were together.

 

“Sam?”

.

“Hmmmm?”

 

“You know this totally makes you Juliet, right?”

 

Sam grinned and pulled Dean closer.

 

“Wherefore art thou, Romeo?”

 

“Right here, little brother. I’ll always be right here.”

  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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